Somewhere I Belong
by adelinafeonix
Summary: Redone from a previous story of the same title. Jax and Harry - the Potter twins - separated at birth. Now that the Second War has begun, what key role will Jax play to help her brother rise to the occasion?
1. Chapter One

A/N: This story has been re-typed, re-done, and re-plotted. Same characters, same basic plotline, but _way _different. Yours Truly has had a year of growing as a writer, and to put it lightly, the previous version of this story sucked. So, here goes the re-edited version of Somewhere I Belong:

"Mum?"

Jax swooped down on the carpet where the mail lay, closing the door behind her with a foot. She moved to the kitchen and peeked through the door.

"Mum?"

She gave a shrug, coming to the conclusion that her mother wasn't home yet. Slamming the mail onto the table and helping herself to a cup of coffee, a regular afternoon ritual, she sat down in a high chair and began slurping up the hot liquid.

"Junk, bills, more junk," she commented, slightly burning her tongue.

She moved to the trash bin when her eyes caught a cream-colored envelope at the bottom.

"What's this?" she inquired, slicing her finger through the seal and opening up the letter. "We are pleased to inform you… acceptance… Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" She threw the remains of the envelope and the letter into the trash with the other mail. "Stupid magic shop junk..."

Jax took her seat at the table again and started to flip through a magazine when another clank of the mailbox came.

Eyeing the carpet suspiciously, she placed the cup in her hand down and picked up two new letters identical to the ones she had just trashed.

"Never give up, do the little buggers?" she laughed, immediately getting rid of them.

She hadn't even gotten the chance to flip to the next page in her magazine when a second clank rung throughout the empty house.

Slamming her mug down, she ran to the door and ripped it open, sure to find neighborhood pranksters running down the street in glee.

All she found was the elderly lady across the street pruning her flowers.

"Are those…?" Jax's eyes moved towards the three owls above her head pleasantly resting on a telephone line.

"Owls?"

Jax whipped around her messy black bob to find an elderly man with a rather long beard and odd clothing standing behind her.

"The open door is giving me an awful chill. Would you be a dear, and close it for me?"

Jax's mouth gaped open, hoping for a scream to eject from it, but nothing came. Blank space exited and entered her mouth for several seconds before the intruder spoke again.

"Ah, I shall do it for you." He pulled a long piece of wood from his odd robes, gave it a flick, and the door shut close with a burst of wind.

Jax felt her head growing heavy…

and everything went dark after that.

Young Jax Pierce woke up to find herself in her bed, dressed in the clothes she had worn to school that day.

What a weird dream she had. But why would she have fallen asleep in her clothes?

Eager to go downstairs and see that her odd dream was completely untrue, she quickly caught a glance in the mirror of her reflection before she made her way out of her room. A raving beauty, as she had been called. But a teenage girl like herself wasn't so quick to agree.

Jax loved her dark black hair, but had a definite problem with the way it was cut. Her skin was a tawny cream color, which matched well with her hair and deep purple eyes, but didn't satisfy her completely. But there was the scar in the shape of a small star she had immediately above her right temple, which had been mistaken for a tattoo once too many.

Scowling, she walked out of her room and jumbled down the stairs.

Four voices could be heard from inside the kitchen.

"Sixteen years, and you decide now to take her away?" an angry voice, one that belonged to her father carried up to where she stood.

"It was unavoidable, Peter," came the voice of the old man with the stick.

Wait, no. He had been a dream, hadn't he?

"We held out as long as we could, we attempted to spare her." There was the voice of the dream entity again.

"If it had been possible, we would have kept her away," one voice she didn't recognize wafted up the stairs.

Stifled cries reached Jax's ears, ones she realized were her mother's.

"They told us it would happen, Joan. They warned us-" Jax's father, Peter, was interrupted by her arrival in the doorway. "You're up!"

Jax's mother held a tissue in her hand; her dream entity sat catty cornered to her father, next to an uptight woman in a green cloak similar to the dream man's.

"Ah, I see Severus' Fainting Cure _did _work," said the dream man with a beaming smile.

"Pardon me?" asked Jax.

"You look so much like Lily," he said barely above a whisper, blatantly ignoring Jax's question.

Jax's mother let out a quiver.

"Who's _Lily_?" Jax asked as she moved closer to the table.

Jax's father gave Dumbledore a warning look. Her mother, with watery eyes, watched Jax as if it was the first time she had ever seen her.

"Mum, are you okay?" Jax asked her.

Joan lost it, her wailing cries bursted from behind a wet cloth. Dumbledore was not disturbed, yet Peter and McGonagall became very uncomfortable at Jax's mother's wails of sadness.

"We'll leave," stated Jax's father, taking the hint from behind Dumbledore's glasses. Taking his wife by the waist, they started towards the stairs together.

"Dad…" a confused Jax watched her parents walk up the stairs, leaving her alone with two freak shows dressed in Halloween costumes.

"Please sit down, Dear," ordered Dumbledore.

"Who _are _you people?"

"Ah! Please excuse me for our rudeness." He made a motion towards McGonagall. "This would be Minerva McGongall, Director of Admissions, Professor of Transfiguration, and Head of Gryffindor house at Hogwarts.

And I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Jax's eyes flew wide open.

"Jax, please answer a question for me," began Dumbledore. "Anytime when you were mad or sad, has something unexplainable happened to you? Something much out of the ordinary?"

Jax could not say there wasn't. On her sixth birthday, Mable Smith had won five games of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and began to attract all the attention from the birthday girl, Jax, to herself. Angry and jealous, all Jax could do was stare at Mable's back while she spun around with the blindfold on, hoping that something would happen to her so Jax could win a game.

Seconds later, Mable's skin turned the odd color of bright orange, and had to be taken to the hospital.

Jax slowly repeated these events to the two strangers standing before her, although in a much more jumbled up and muddled manner.

"Yes, I seem to remember receiving a letter from your mother about that," chuckled Dumbledore.

Jax stared at the old man in amazement. What was all of this?

"I understand none of this. I don't understand you," Jax's voice continued to grow louder, "I don't understand her," she pointed to McGonagall, "I don't understand your clothes, and most of all, I don't understand what you are doing in my kitchen!"

"You're a witch, Jax," Dumbledore stated calmly.

Blank eyes returned his answer.

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose you read books about witches when you were a child? You do understand what magic is, don't you?"

Blank eyes still upheld Jax's face, but her head slightly nodded.

"You ever wondered what that scar on your forehead is about?"

Another nod.

"Because your parents died to save you and your brother from the most terrible magic in existence," Dumbledore whispered, looking down on a quivering Jax.

"My… my parents are upstairs," Jax answered with disbelief.

"Lily and James Potter are your _real _parents, Jax. Almost sixteen years ago I brought you here, away from the busy streets of London, away from harm. I intended for you to grow up as a normal girl, as you do not hold the same fate as your brother."

"My _brother_?"

Dumbledore simply nodded.

"Miss Pierce, I'm sorry to interject, but I must ask you to have your things ready by tomorrow morning," interrupted McGonagall. "You have a busy day ahead of you; please take care of goodbyes and packing tonight." She turned, apparently ready to apparate, but then turned back to face Jax:

"You are not to speak of this to _anyone._" Then she was gone with a loud, splintering crack.

Jax jumped at the loud noise.

"I'm afraid I must go also, I must fetch your brother." He handed a small parcel wrapped in brown packaging to Jax. "I'll be seeing you soon enough," he said with a soft, caring voice.

Another crack, and Jax was left alone.

Flabbergasted and in shock, she sunk into a chair where her mother had previously been sitting at the kitchen table. She pulled on the piece of string around the parcel Dumbledore had handed her, and ripped off the brown paper.

In an old picture frame, there stood a man with Jax's hair, a woman with her face, and two little babies in their hands, waving back at her.

Ignoring the fact that she had never seen people in a picture move, she took these people to be her family.

"It's all a joke, right?" Jax asked her parents while they sat on their bed, Jax's mother crying even more than before. "I have to tell you, Dad, it isn't very funny this time."

Her father's face was blank.

"I'm a _witch_, and you never told me?" she half-screamed.

"We didn't think you'd believe us!" her father told her.

Jax stopped in the middle of her pacing. He was right; she wouldn't have believed them.

"You could have at least _tried_."

A long silence followed her words, giving her mother the time to calm down.

"We need to get you packed."

"There won't be a need for that," Jax replied. "I'm not going."

Her parents didn't immediately reply to her statement.

"See? You don't want me to go. I can't leave you here and join…" she paused at the fear in her mother's face. "…them."

"Sit down," commanded her father. "I'm going to try to explain."

Jax did as she was told.

"Years ago, about fifteen, an old man appeared at our doorstep with a bundle in his arms."

"_Take her, Peter. She's safe here." _

"_Where's Lily?" Peter asked in a low tone. _

"_Dead," whispered Dumbledore. _

_Horror struck Peter's face. _

"_What about…"_

"_Harry is safe. Please, Peter. For Lily." _

"Lily was my best friend for years and years. I was there at her wedding to James, I there when you and your brother were born. We decided when we took you that the wizarding world wasn't the place for you. We tried to raise you away from the world you belong to you, and in that was our mistake."

"I _do _belong here. With you… and mum. I don't know any magic tricks or how to… fly on a broom," Jax insisted.

"You must go," said Jax's mother silently.

"Fine. If you don't want me here, I'll go." She stormed out of her parent's room and slammed the door shut, leaving her mother once again in tears.

A/N: If you never read the original, go search Writerchick2391 to find the original story and see how much of a drastic improvement this is. Reviews are always rewarded with cookies...


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Thanks a bunch to **Alexandria Fairchild** for my first, and only review :-). I hope this one gets a lot more reviews; I have problems writing knowing that no one is reading. So if you want the story to keep going, review, review, review!

"I thought I _told _you to pack last night," snapped McGonagall to a very sleepy and groggy Jax.

She stirred, aimlessly staring in the general direction of the lady in front of her.

"Get up! Get dressed! I _told _her," mumbled McGonagall as she made her way out of Jax's room, her deep green robes snapping around the corner behind her.

Jax, who had retreated to her room, locked the door, and cried herself to sleep, hadn't been conscious since eight o' clock the previous night. She had once again fallen asleep in the clothes she had worn to school the day before, and was quite uncomfortable.

She grabbed old jeans and a green windbreaker. No need to dress up, right?

"_Still not packed?_" asked an agitated McGonagall. "Well, no, I suppose not…" she gave a wave of her wand, and in came a suitcase from the attic. Jax watched with a certain amazement as with another flick of the wand all her clothes folded themselves and were placed into the open trunk.

"I'm not a miracle worker with homely spells, but it'll do," said McGonagall, satisfied with her handiwork. "Brush your hair, girl, it's a mess." She began bustling around the room and throwing out orders for Jax to comply. "You won't be warm enough. Don't you have anything other that doesn't look so… mugglish? Well, I guess not… for heaven's _sake_, move quicker! We've got a lot to do!"

After twenty minutes of McGonagall nitpicking Jax at everything that appeared to be wrong with her, she was somewhat prepared for wherever they were going.

"Well, come on girl! You don't expect to stand there the entire day, do you?" Jax rolled her eyes and followed McGonagall out the door, her bulky suitcases making it a terrible inconvenience.

Jax thought about asking McGonagall to _do_ something to her luggage so that she wouldn't have to carry them down the stairs – she usually kicked them down, explaining the dinged up leather – but she relented in her quest.

"Hello, darling," greeted Jax's mother at the bottom of the stairs. In her arms was a plate full of English muffins – Jax's favorite – and a glass of milk.

"Thanks, mom." The simple gesture of making her daughter breakfast made Jax want to break down and cry. She hadn't really thought of what this entire ordeal was supposed to mean, the only thing she had been concentrating on the night before was how horrible her parents were.

"Five minutes," said McGonagall with an easier tone than before. "Then, we _need to go_," she sharpened back up quickly. She exited through the Pierce's front door with a bang, causing a cold wind to drift through the front hallway.

Jax's lips quivered. Five minutes wasn't enough.

Her mother set the food on a small table below a mirror next to door, and both her parents swooped her into a huge hug. One minutes passed, then two, three, four…

"Keep yourself _safe_," her father insisted.

"Yes, please do," her mother drawled out in her distinct Irish accent, which was now distinguishable due to the withdrawal of constant tears. Now only a small trail flowed down her right cheek.

"I love you, and, uh…" Jax trailed off.

"We'll keep in touch," her mother completed silently.

"Bye."

Then she escaped through to the other side of the door. She hadn't even eaten any of the breakfast her mother had so lovingly made.

xxx

"Good morning, Jax," greeted a cheerful Dumbledore on the outside her front door.

"Uh… hi," she replied.

In front of her stood Dumbledore and McGonagall, and three other people she didn't recognize: a man with a worn out face and raggedy clothes, a witch with bright bubblegum pink hair, and another man with a scarred and pitted face and an eyeball three sizes too large for his head.

Her childhood books were right; witches and wizards _were_ freak shows.

"Please meet Remus Lupin," Lupin took a small bow, removing his cap, "Nymphadora Tonks," Dumbledore ignored her scowl as she took Jax's wary hand and shook it, "and Alastor Moody." Moody's gnarled hand reached out and a reluctant Jax slowly took it.

"It's not contagious, girl," he instructed.

"Er… right." She had the sudden want for hand sanitizer.

"As Professor McGonagall might have informed you, you have a very busy day ahead of you," he handed Jax a small, velvet, maroon, pouch that jingled. "I need to be going now, but these three fine people," he motioned towards Lupin, Tonks, and Moody, "will be accompanying you.

Professors, Tonks, I've been assured you know what to do?"

Tonks and Lupin nodded; Moody's eye whizzed.

"I'll take that as a yes, Alastor," said Dumbledore.

Jax's face read that she was very, very scared. Here was a beggar, Mr. Hyde, and a woman who looked like she came out of Willy Wonka.

She began to have half the mind to run inside the door and never come out again, giving her all the more reason to when an owl swooped down upon them and dropped something into

"The car should be here any minute," said Tonks.

"Don't get used to it, girl," snarled Moody. "You'll have to learn to be one of us one of these days."

"Alastor!" scolded Tonks.

Moody's normal eye rolled as his unusually large one fell to the back of his head, causing Jax to gasp slightly.

"It's okay, that happens occasionally…" Tonks hit the side of Moody's head and the eye popped back into its proper place.

"Er… right," said a wary Jax.

A gasp next to Jax caught her attention. McGonagall and Dumbledore held a piece of parchment, reading it with lightning speed agility; McGonagall's mouth stood half-open.

"We have to go, _now,_ Albus."

Dumbledore stood for a few seconds, as if McGonagall's proposal was a complex and intricate statement.

"Yes, I suppose we must."

"What's going on, Dumbledore?" growled Moody's low voice.

"Harry," Dumbledore simply replied and both McGonagall and he disappeared once again with a loud crack.

xxx

Harry blinked his eyes open to five pairs of concerned ones looking down upon him. There were Hermione's chocolate brown ones, Dumbledore's blue ones, Ron's bright red hair falling into his face, making it impossible to see his eyes…

What had happened?

"Oh _Harry!_" exclaimed Hermione, as she wrapped her arms around him.

"You gave us such a fright," exclaimed Mrs. Weasley.

"I knew you'd be okay, mate," said Ron, as he patted Harry on the shoulder. Harry noted that his face looked horrible, like he'd been up all night.

As if he had just realized his scar was throbbing with pain, Harry's hand flew to his forehead as he abruptly sat up in his bed, knocking a teary-eyed Hermione off of him.

"ARGH!" His second hand flew up to his first hand, applying more pressure to the aching area. His breathing quickened, white-hot pain seared throughout his entire body, sweat appeared all across his forehead. His eyes watered, blinding him to his surroundings.

"_CRUCIO!" came the cry of a familiar voice, that of Bellatrix Lestrange. _

_Horrific laughter came from a far corner._

"_Do you enjoy it, Master?" Her face filled with joy._

"_Very entertaining, Bella," hissed a raspy, haunting voice, one that caused Harry to shake even harder._

"_CRUICO!" Bellatrix shouted once more._

_Shrieks of pain erupted in Harry's head._

"_Yes, Bella, very nice. But in all that's fair, may we put them out of their misery?" came the haunting voice again. _

"_Right, Master. Of course." Bellatrix raised her wand high above her head and arched her arm._

"_NO!" came another shriek._

"_Avada Kedavra." _

"Stop it… stop it, please," Harry cried out as the pain died down. The blurriness of the tears fell down his face, his scar only slightly tingling now.

There stood McGonagall, Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley, all looking frightened out of their wits.

But Dumbledore had a rare look to his face: angry. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at Harry's forehead.

"_Legilimens," _he muttered.

Realizing what Dumbledore was trying to do, Harry reached out and knocked the wand out of his hand.

"DON'T!" he yelled. "You _don't _want to see that," he warned. His body was shaking; his train of thought was a huge blur. He sank back into the bed he lay in, Hermione and Ron's eyes staring at him in shock.

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head in sorrow.

"Albus…" squeaked McGonagall. "Should we take him somewhere? St. Mungo's?" she said in a quiet, yet clearly audible voice.

"No," he whispered. "Molly," he called over a very, very scared Mrs. Weasley, "let him rest. No one is to bother him, not even Ron or Hermione."

Harry shifted in his bed and turned to his side, showing back to the rest of them.

"It's obvious we can't tell him anything. Not now, not anytime soon."


End file.
